


Teach me to fight

by thought



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, post season13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:46:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thought/pseuds/thought
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In wich learning to fight is as difficult as learning to stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teach me to fight

Right fist up, textbook haymaker, as easy to dodge physically as it is impossible to dodge the term once you take the time to deconstruct it. Fist meets forearm, and then the quick slide of the hand down to the elbow. Pull, step forward, turn. all one motion.

Carolina breaks the hold easily and bounces back a few steps, laughing. "That was cute. Did you forget the part where the point of a fight is to, you know, hurt your opponent?"

Vanessa straightens up. They're wearing matching tanktops because humanitarian aid from the UNSC is neither plentiful nor diverse. "Inaccurate," she says.

Carolina frowns, then steps in fast and close, sweeping Vanessa's legs out from under her and following her down to slam her hard into the mats on her back. Vanessa sucks in a quick pained breath. Carolina waits. Vanessa says, "Think about why you believe the only form of defence is to cause harm."

*

Vanessa found a chess board, the first week after the final attack. It's a foldable, cheap plastic thing found in somebody's backpack. Somebody is dead, so Vanessa reappropriates it to her reappropriated storage closet come office.

The first time Carolina sees it she laughs for thirty seconds straight. The second time she sees it she takes it out into the courtyard and sets it on fire, black chemical smoke puffing listlessly up from the curling remnants. Vanessa watches her from the window while a UNSC bureaucrat drones away in her ear. They haven't sent anybody down to the surface because apparently mentioning the presence of mysterious alien doomsday weapons makes admirals leery. Carolina stamps out the fire and walks off like she's just completed a high-risk mission.

*

Carolina holds her arm across Vanessa's throat and counts out loud. Vanessa kicks awkwardly at her legs, but Carolina keeps her legs spread and her chin tucked to her chest, forehead against Vanessa's shoulderblade.

"And you're unconscious," Carolina says, letting go. "You've got the height advantage. Use it."

"I'm not sure what I could've done that wouldn't have ended with you hanging off my neck," Vanessa says. Carolina can tell her embarrassment is making her frustrated. Kimball's a surprisingly good mid-range fighter, creative rapidly adaptable with her environment and troops, but out of armour and alone her hand-to-hand is clearly a jumble of street fighting and failing attempts to translate armed combat strategies.

"Then work on not letting it get to that point," Carolina says. "You need to tailor your moves to each opponent. Use whatever advantage you've got."

*

"What the hell is this?" Carolina asks before she's even half way through reading. Vanessa rests her chin in her hand on the table and doesn't cry.

"The cost of rebuilding," she says. "Resource allocation from the UNSC aid program, plus the donation directly from the UEG so everybody on the inner colonies can feel good about themselves. It's not enough. Not to rebuild here."

"So you're just going to tell everyone to pack up and leave."

"You and I both know ONI will be tearing apart this planet as soon as the risk margins are acceptable. UNSC's offered transport and start-up grants for everyone on a few different colonies within the nearby systems."

Carolina slams the datapad down on the table and crosses to the coffee pot. Vanessa clears her throat, and when Carolina looks back at her she shakes her head. Carolina pauses for a moment to consider, then paces back towards the window empty-handed.

"No," she says finally. "No, Vanessa. Things I know: 1. The UNSC can only pull this shit because most of our communications are still down and we can't broadcast what's going on here fast enough to keep up with ONI's propaganda machine. 2, (and I learned this from you), the chances that any of the colonies we're being offered space on had a say in that offer is practically zero. And 3? ONI's interested in the alien weapons on Chorus, but right now they're also afraid of them. And last time I checked, Chorus and everything on it belongs to u-- your people. So maybe ONI should be fucking scared."

"You're suggesting I threaten them? Carolina, they're the only reason we have food and clothing right now. I can't endanger that. I have to think of what's best for everyone."

"I know," Carolina says. "But running away isn't it. You led a revolution, Vanessa. You have to see it through."

Vanessa knows Carolina intends it to come out as a demand, but the fear in her eyes makes it sound more like a plea.

*

"That was better," Carolina says, stepping back. Her wrist twinges. "But you're still leaving your left side wide open."

"I didn't want you to land on your knee if you tried to go for my right like that," Vanessa says. Carolina feels pride and anger rising hot and loud through her blood and she lets it come.

"I'm sure your people will applaud your kindness when you're being carried away with a broken neck," she says. "You need to let go of the pacifist ideal, there's far too much blood on your hands to make it believable."

Vanessa moves in a slow, wide circle around her, barely making any noise. "Does that usually work on the sorts of people you're fighting?" she asks.

"What?"

"Pissing them off. Making them sloppy."

"I'm trying to explain to you why you need to take this seriously," Carolina snaps.

"By insulting me?" Vanessa keeps moving and Carolina has to shift, slightly but constantly to keep an eye on her.

"I am trying to keep you safe," Carolina says. "You need to be able to defend yourself."

"By hurting my opponent."

"Yes."

"The war is over, Carolina."

Carolina laughs. She looks out the windows at the UNSC peacekeeping forces stationed around the compound. She isn't on anything at the moment but her nervous system still sparks with pent up energy, each brush of fabric against her skin like sandpaper, her body never loose no matter how much and how far she stretches each muscle. She hasn't been allowed to use the speed unit since the final fight.

"The war is never over," Carolina says.

"Do you realize that you and I have never lived during peacetime?" Vanessa asks. Carolina blinks.

"What?"

"There has always been a war," Vanessa says. "The post-traumatic stress of our generation is horrifying to consider, but we've got to start somewhere."

"I'm not traumatised," Carolina says dismissively. She watches a soldier outside stop a group of Feds, patches sewn sloppily onto to their identical jackets.

Vanessa is behind her. She feels the shift in the air just before the other woman's body weight carries her down to the mat, and Carolina twists her head to avoid face planting before she notices the way Vanessa controls their fall. She pins Carolina's arms, balances her centre of gravity just how Carolina taught her so she can't buck her off. Carolina waits for the pain of the secondary attack or the shame of the defeat, but neither come.

"The war is over, Carolina," Vanessa repeats, and her voice is impossibly gentle. "You're allowed a say over who you hurt. And who hurts you." There is a bruise on Carolina's shoulder from the night before. Vanessa is being very careful to avoid it.

*

"ONI is backing off on the alien tech excavation," Vanessa announces, flopping backwards onto the bed.

Carolina looks down at her, amused. "Good. What did you threaten them with?"

Vanessa stretches her arms above her head. "I didn't. We talked it out."

"Politicians," Carolina mutters, but it doesn't hold the venom that it would have six months ago. Vanessa is still kind of in awe of the mental gymnastics that the Churches went through to continue to claim disdain for politicians whilst being so deeply entrenched in politics of one kind or another themselves.

"I also talked to the Sangheili," Vanessa says. "Seems like once ONI became third down on the list in the rights battle they lost interest pretty quickly. It doesn't hurt that the Sangheili and human ambassadors went on public galactic media announcing how great it was to be returning Sangheili cultural artefacts to their rightful home."

Carolina laughs. She's sprawled out in the armchair, boots propped on the coffee table. Neither of them are bothered by the cramped quarters, so they've remained in the smaller room to be closer to the central offices. Further out in the remains of the small city houses are being rebuilt and pre-fabs are being crammed into any available space. The ruins of Armonia are hours away by truck, and here Vanessa walks the gridline streets and watches the snow fall and feels like a stranger on her own world.

Carolina's been cleared to run again, and half of the peacekeeping troops have been withdrawn. Vanessa can see the decrease in her tension with every passing day. Her hair is an electric blue-green, and each time Vanessa sees it it seems alien, exaggerated and cartoonish against the grey backdrop of the city. When she looks out her window she can see mountains in the distance, only a few trees bare of leaves dotting the landscape in between. Outside the air carries an icy bite, crisp and dry in her lungs, and inside everything is warm and stuffy, new insulation and sturdy concrete walls keeping everything separate.

Carolina says, later that night when they're in bed in the unsettling complete silence of their room, "It's not what you expected, is it?"

Vanessa lifts her head a bit and Carolina rolls over under her arm to face her. "What?"

Carolina presses her feet against Vanessa's shins. "After the war. It isn't what you imagined."

"No," Vanessa says honestly. "It's awful, but I keep thinking of the way things were in Armonia, after the ceasefire. That felt right."

"That feels like a story, now," Carolina says. In the dark, Vanessa nods.

"I was still fighting. I--"

"It's not easy to stop," Carolina says dryly. Vanessa breathes out. Thinks of the hundreds of times she's told Carolina that it's OK to stop fighting.

"No," she says. "It isn't."

Carolina curls up, dragging blankets up over her like it's colder than it is in the room. "We'll figure it out," she says into Vanessa's collarbone. "Probably."

Vanessa laughs. "Realist."

"Mmhm," Carolina agrees. A few minutes later, she's asleep. Vanessa stays awake the rest of the night.


End file.
